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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/25513099">Dark Business</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/ayrt/pseuds/ayrt'>ayrt</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Dracula - Bram Stoker</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Anal Sex, Captivity, Extremely Dubious Consent, M/M, Rape/Non-con Elements, Vampire Turning</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-08-01</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2020-08-01</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-05 06:01:05</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Explicit</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>1</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>1,840</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/25513099</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/ayrt/pseuds/ayrt</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>It was dark. It was always dark in this place, Jonathan remarked to himself. This foreign, strange place had sucked the sunlight away. The moment he stepped foot in this land, the darkness came over him.</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Dracula/Jonathan Harker</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>3</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>218</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Collections:</b></td><td>Rare Male Slash Exchange 2020</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>Dark Business</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><ul class="associations">
      <li>For <a href="https://archiveofourown.org/users/StopTalkingAtMe/gifts">StopTalkingAtMe</a>.</li>



    </ul></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>It was dark. It was always dark in this place, Jonathan remarked to himself. This foreign, strange place had sucked the sunlight away. The moment he stepped foot in this land, the darkness came over him. </p><p>Rats skittered over him, insects writhed beneath his head. There was a growl, there was <em>always</em> a growl. </p><p>It was dark. It was cramped, it was always cramped in this place. </p><p>The air reeked with old earth and the musk of death. <em>And that growl</em>. </p><p>Jonathan screamed as fingers invaded his mouth and— </p><p> </p><p>A dream. Just a dark dream, Jonathan tried to tell himself as he pulled himself from the covers. His heart raced, beating like drums in his ears as he looked across the room. </p><p>Darkness edged the corners of the room, shadows dancing in the candle — a candle Jonathan was certain he had blown out at dawn, when he had laid himself down. </p><p>It wasn’t worth troubling himself over, Jonathan thought, as he swung his legs over the edge of the bed, going to his wardrobe. </p><p>There was business to be done, nightmares had no place in business. </p><p>The room was nice enough, where the Count had placed him, quite some time ago. Jonathan always thought that as he dressed himself. </p><p>So long from home, Jonathan’s head was filled with thoughts for his love left far away. Mina missed him, she had to miss him, and Jonathan — <em>oh — </em>Jonathan missed her, too.  </p><p>The business trip had been such an opportunity! Jonathan knew that, he knew it, but there had been hesitation when it was offered and— </p><p>There were footsteps in the hallway, slow, steady. Jonathan had come to hate that sound, a dreadful, anxiety inducing sound that set him to the edge of his seat. </p><p>The Count wore thick, long robes that dragged along the floor. Jonathan would have to fall behind the Count when they walked, or risk stepping on the fine fabrics that were surely worth more than he was. </p><p>That was a thought that floated through Jonathan’s mind more than he cared to admit. </p><p>He was worthless, there were many other lawyers that could do what the Count needed. It was only supposed to have been a short business trip and now, Jonathan was sure that many months had now passed. </p><p><em>Why</em> would the Count keep him?! He was hardly worth the — </p><p>“Good evening…” </p><p>It was always evening when Jonathan awoke. </p><p>The Count kept odd hours, that meant that Jonathan, too, kept odd hours. </p><p>“Has your sleep troubled you…?” the Count asked. A smirk graced the Count’s lips as he glided across the stone floors, barely making a sound as he moved. </p><p>The Count’s footsteps could always be heard so clearly in the long hallways, but once they were together, it was as if he floated. Peculiar. </p><p>Jonathan let the Count help him dress, pulling his dress shirt shut, buttoning it. Jonathan’s fingers refused to move on their own, still trembling from the nightmare. </p><p>Did the Count know of his nightmares? Did Jonathan cry out in his sleep — loud enough to draw the Count’s attention? Is that why the candle was always lit upon waking, despite taking care to blow it out at dawn, just before settling down into the covers? </p><p>These were questions that would not be answered, and Jonathan would not ask them. He had not the strength — nor the breath — to ask them. </p><p>The Count’s cold hands drifted to Jonathan’s neck, his eyes focused there as he spoke, speaking of business he wished to have done, but it was clear his focus was not on the legal matters. It was like this, each day, now. </p><p>Wake with a start. Pull himself from the warmth of his bed. Allow the Count to dress him. </p><p>There was more that the Count wished to ask, Jonathan was certain. Something else drew the Count to him like this each day. Something dark, something twisted. Something that skittered just out of view as the Count’s hands drifted from Jonathan’s jaw to his neck, straightening his tie. Jonathan felt warm, even in the icy presence of the Count, warmth coursed through him. </p><p>The Count stepped back. Jonathan looked immaculate — or so he assumed. There were no mirrors in this place. The Count would shave him, but that had seemed less and less necessary as the days continued on and Jonathan’s skin remained smoother for longer. It was oddly intimate — perverse even — to have the Count shaving him. There were no servants, it was just the two of them and — </p><p>There was something the Count wished to ask for, Jonathan could see it in his eyes. Sad eyes that drifted away as he walked from the room, his footsteps growing louder as he reached the hallway, as if signaling to no one that the Master of the castle moved about. </p><p>There was business to be done and Jonathan followed after the Count, his cheeks hot and flushed. </p><p> </p><p>The night had ended as it always did. Jonathan and the Count were tucked away in the great hall with a roaring fire — Jonthan closer to the warmth, the Count some distance away. It puzzled him, wouldn’t an older man have need of the warmth more? </p><p>The Count did desire something more, Jonathan was sure of it. </p><p>Something that Jonathan wished for, too. Though, he would never find the breath to ask. <em>Never</em>. </p><p>It was this land, it was this darkness that brought out such perversion. He felt far from God in this place. High in the mountains, bathed in darkness, even as the light of day peaked over the cliffs. </p><p>The darkness awaited him, his slumber called to him. Jonathan didn’t want to leave the Count’s side. He did not want to return to the rats and the insects, the creatures growling in his face as he screamed and scratched at heavy wood. </p><p>He should not desire such things. He should desire his home, his Mina and — </p><p>The Count moved, signaling it was time for them to depart, to separate and go to their own quarters for rest. </p><p>Jonathan didn’t want to. He sat a moment longer, looking up at the Count as a hand with long nails was held out for him to take. </p><p>The Count was strong, it had to have been his Transylvanian stock. He looked younger than when Jonathan first arrived. It had to have been a trick of the light — Jonathan had been weary that first night, he was just mistaken. </p><p>The Count waited as Jonathan hesitated. He should have desired home, he should have desired righteous things, not perverted darkness. </p><p>Jonathan was a prisoner in this place, he understood that. He was a prisoner in his dreams, too. Plagued by horrible visions, trapped, held far from God’s graces upon this high mountain top. </p><p>Jonathan desired the Count. He shouldn’t have. There were creatures in this castle, monsters that roamed the halls and his dreams. The Count seemed warmer than those beasts. </p><p>Jonathan took the Count’s icy hand, letting himself be pulled from the couch. He followed after the Count, led to his room. </p><p>They parted. Jonathan dressed down, laying in bed. He blew out the candle. </p><p> </p><p>Fingers invaded his mouth. A low growl rumbled at his side. Terror froze Jonathan in place, but he knew who this creature was. </p><p>This creature was nothing like the monsters that plagued him in the dark, cramped spaces of his nightmares. </p><p>It was the Count and Jonathan gasped out, his mouth invaded by tongue instead of fingers. </p><p>They kissed. Jonathan should have shoved him away. </p><p>They kissed. Jonathan <em>groaned</em>. </p><p>This land was foreign, Jonathan was far from home, far from God. </p><p>Jonathan was on his back. He was in his bed — or, a bed, if not his own. </p><p>The Count pulled away, taking what little warmth he provided, causing Jonathan to shudder. </p><p>He was nude, disrobed of even his thin sleeping gown. The candle was lit. </p><p>This was not Jonathan’s room. </p><p>It was not the coffin he was trapped in nightly, either. </p><p>It was a room far larger than his own, draped in rich finery. None of that mattered to Jonathan as he was kissed again. The Count was a far larger man than Jonathan expected — younger, too. </p><p>The Count’s hair was near-black. Jonathan was sure it had been stark white when they had parted at dawn. </p><p>It didn’t matter. None of it mattered. This place was wicked — Jonathan was wicked, too. </p><p>Fingers invaded his mouth, sharp nails grazing sensitive areas. He tasted blood, the Count then tasted him in a deep kiss. </p><p>Jonathan gasped. Once, there had been hope of him getting home, of escaping this darkness, but not now. </p><p>The Count had won, the Count had won <em>him</em>. </p><p>Jonathan writhed, his legs parted for the Count. It was of Jonathan’s own will — whatever was left of his will. </p><p>Fingers invaded Jonathan much lower, pushing in, burning him, stinging, making him hiss. The Count kissed him again, taking away his voice, his sounds of pain. </p><p>It wouldn’t be pain for long, Jonathan knew. He didn’t know how he could know this, it was like a voice in his head. Jonathan turned toward that voice, whispering back nonsense as his cock grew hard. </p><p>Jonathan was speaking to himself, he was losing his mind — the Count chuckled. </p><p>“Hush…” the Count whispered. His cold, hard cock was lined up, his fingers no longer invading Jonathan. </p><p>The air hung between them as the Count moved. Jonathan cried out, his body invaded again. </p><p>It was thick, it was cold, it <em>burned</em>. </p><p>Jonathan was losing his mind. The Count pulled him into another kiss that Jonathan gladly returned. </p><p>The thrusting increased, it was too much, but the Count could not be stopped. Jonathan <em>growled</em> and the Count returned the gesture with a snarl. </p><p>An impatient rush filled Jonathan, a foreign feeling that made him arch and shout as something left his body. Darkness took up the space that had been made by Jonathan’s orgasm, made vulnerable. He twitched, he writhed, he allowed the Count to sink his terrible fangs into his throat as he continued his thrusts. </p><p>The air rushed from his lungs, the blood left his body. When the Count offered his own blood back to him from a cut in his neck, Jonathan didn’t even hesitate to take it back. </p><p>It was cold, it smelled of old earth and the musk of death. </p><p>Jonathan swallowed every last drop the Count allowed him to drink. The Count’s thrusts were messy, uneven. A low growl echoed in the chamber.  </p><p>Jonathan took the seed left in his body as the Count pulled away. Every drop of blood left on his lips was licked away, eyes on the Count as his vision dimmed and darkened around the edges. </p><p>Jonathan would never again leave this castle. It was dark. It was always dark and Jonathan breathed out one last breath as the darkness took him into its cold embrace, destined, <em>doomed</em> to walk the lands in darkness for all of eternity.</p>
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